


your flaws are perfect (for the heart that's meant to love you)

by ahausonfire (thisiswherethefishlives)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: As One Do, Established Relationship, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Minor Angst Overshadowed By Fluff, Tumblr Prompt, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-13 05:31:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13563888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiswherethefishlives/pseuds/ahausonfire
Summary: Valentine's Day prompt fills, consolidated from Tumblr. Because, why not?





	1. surprise flowers

The whole thing is stupid.

It’s decidedly _not_ the best plan that Will’s ever had. 

And yet.

Here he is.

Living his best, most gay, most emotionally vulnerable life, and _god_ , he is never listening to drunk Bitty ever again. Because listening to drunk Bitty obviously leads to disaster. And flowers. And sweaty palms and anxiety beating out of his chest and this was a horrible, horrible idea.

_Fuck_.

Yeah, the whole thing is beyond stupid, but there’s not enough time to save face, because of course Nursey’s walking in through the door, _and of course_ he’s noticing the flowers clutched in Will’s clammy, clammy hands. For what feels like the hundredth time, Will realizes that he’s made a horrible mistake.

“Sup, Dexy?” He asks, casual and blatant in his ignorance, and Will can tell that he’s doing his best to avoid looking straight on to the disaster that is Will and his stupid bouquet. He’s giving Will an out, and honestly… Will’s gonna take it.

Because as stupid as this whole thing is, _he’s_ not stupid. He’s not. He’s just… he’s invested. He’s overly invested in Nursey in every way possible, and-

_Fuck_.

“Happy Birthday, Nurse,” Will says, and he can feel the way that he’s going hot and flushed and mortified all over as he steps close enough to thrust the flowers at Nursey’s chest. It’s a good chest. One that Will’s fantasized about touching more than once, but this… this is just awkward, because Nursey’s looking at him like he’s something foreign and strange, and Nursey’s actively _not_ taking the flowers, and there’s only so long that Will can press them to Nursey before having to take them back.

It’s awkward.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

_Fuck._

“What are you doing,” Nursey asks in the way he does when he wants to make a point more than he wants to beg a question, dropping the question mark as easy as anything.

“I’m, uh,” the words come out thick and sticky and wrong from Will’s tongue, and he hates being like this - infatuated and stupid and slow. He hates it so much, but he doesn’t hate it half as much has he hates the pining. Because it hurts, keeping everything inside, having to pretend that he’s not… invested. “I’m celebrating you?”

And yeah, it wasn’t supposed to be a question, but Will’s tongue is stupid and the flowers are wilted and this… this whole thing is wrong.

“Do you usually ‘celebrate’ your bros with flowers, Poindexter? Because, like, I know Shitty would kick my ass into next year for saying this, but that’s pretty gay.”

“Yeah.”

Nursey’s eyebrows jump up at that, and Will doesn’t feel like fighting anymore. 

“It’s pretty gay because I’m pretty gay.”

“So… you wanted to celebrate me in a gay way?” Nursey asks, his eyebrows climbing further and further with every second, and Will knows that it’s not likely, but… he wouldn’t be shocked if they just flew off Nursey’s face entirely.

“No, dipshit. I wanted to celebrate your birthday because you’re my friend.”

“You got me roses, bro.” Nursey sounds so certain, and it makes Will want to run. The way that Nursey always seems to be more in his confidence - taller, stronger, more sure - it’s overwhelming, and if it didn’t make Will want to kiss him it would probably leave him feeling small. But there’s no room for Will’s lackings when Nursey’s like this. Hell, there’s barely room for the two of them as it is. 

The roses are jerked from Will’s grip, and it’s only after they’ve been laid across Nursey’s bed that it really registers that he’s no longer holding them. Without the buffer between them, Will can feel how close they’re standing, and it’s too close for this. Far, far too close. 

“It’s okay if you want to celebrate me in a gay way,” Nursey says, his words soft and strong all at the same time, and it’s a blessing that he doesn’t come any closer. The distance between them is the only saving grace Will has left.

“It’s not funny, Nurse. It’s-” There’s a hand on Will’s wrist, warm and soft and grounding, and for a single moment it feels like all the air’s gone out of the room. This is so stupid. This entire situation is the worst, and Will is quickly losing all of his fucking chill. “Please... don’t chirp me for this. I know that it was stupid, but I… can we please just forget this happened?” Each word feels like it’s been pulled too quickly from Will’s lips, but he’s desperate to get them out. To make sure that Nursey knows this doesn’t have to be a thing. That this _isn’t_ a thing.

That Will’s stupidity doesn’t have to ruin everything.

“What if I want you to?” For a second, Will thinks that Nursey’s on the same page - that he wants them to forget this awkward cluster of a moment just as bad as Will does - but then Nursey’s fingers are sliding down Will’s wrist to tangle with his fingers, and that hope goes out the window. “What if I want you to celebrate me with roses? What if I don’t want you to forget?”

Will’s stomach is churning, and he can feel his face flushing in anger/frustration/fear/embarrassment, and he’s dying. He’s fucking aching for death, because at least that would be a sure thing. There’s nothing certain or comforting about the way that Nursey’s fingers feel so natural twined with Will’s, and there’s nothing that isn’t terrifying about the hope that’s laid out so plainly across Nursey’s face, and not for the first time, Will thinks that he’s ruined everything.

Because there’s no way that Nursey wants Will half as bad as Will has been wanting him.

And the longer they linger in this moment, the less likely it is that they can just laugh it off.

And maybe, just maybe, the realization that Will can have what he’s been wanting is scarier than the notion of pining forever.

If drunk Bitty was here, he’d tell Will to go for it.

He’d push him into Nursey with a wink and a wave, and he’d live tweet the whole thing.

It’s kind of upsetting that Will’s impulse control is tied to his friend’s drunken persona… but it also kind of makes sense. Because if it weren’t for drunk Bitty, Will would never have gotten this far. 

No, he’d still be standing in the middle of the florist’s, floundering in a sea of choices and anxiety. 

Or maybe he’d still be staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out something to do for Nursey’s birthday that wouldn’t be too obvious.

Without drunk Bitty, Will would probably still be in the closet, so…

Yeah. 

It’s Valentine’s day, the object of Will’s affections is holding his hand, and the voice inside his head that speaks with a familiar slurred drawl is pushing for action.

Carefully, Will reaches out with his free hand, keeping his moments slow and obvious - as if Nursey was the one likely to startle - until he can trace the tips of his fingers against the grain of Nursey’s stubble. For his part, Nursey doesn’t say anything, just leans into Will’s touch, which… honestly, says more than Will’s capable of unpacking at the moment. 

The only thing that he _knows_ is that maybe drunk Bitty was right.

Maybe it’s time to be brave. To live his most authentic life.

“I won’t promise roses all the time, because they’re crazy overpriced and cliched, but I _can_ promise to celebrate you.”

“In a gay way?” Nursey asks, but this time it’s lacking the teasing bite that it had earlier. 

“Yeah, Nurse. In a gay way.”

Nursey smiles at that, and it’s like the sun rising, or petals unfurling, or the steady strum of a guitar. 

Nursey smiles and it’s the most natural thing in the world for Will to smile back. 

Drunk Bitty would be so proud.


	2. love at first sight

“Do you ever wish that we had been easy?”

It’s a sleepy little question, and Derek can hear how close to nodding off Will is in the way that his words all slide together, a soft string of syllables followed by a yawn, and _yeah_. Derek did that to him. _Derek_ took him apart - with his fingers and his lips and his tongue - took him to the edge and pushed him over, shivering and shaking and whispering Derek’s name like a prayer.

This whole thing between them (from the rough way they came together freshman year to the awkward transition from enemies to friends - the cautious way they took to living together that morphed into comfort… comfort that bloomed into more) stopped being tentative awhile back.

But that doesn’t make it feel less _new_. It doesn’t diminish the sense of awe in Derek’s heart that he _gets_ this.

“What do you mean, baby?”

And, like. For real? It’s adorable how Will flushes at that, the way that his skin goes pink and hot at the slightest endearment. It makes Derek want to keep him forever.

“Just… I was _thinking-_ ”

“Babe, if you’ve been thinking I _clearly_ wasn’t doing a good enough job,” Derek snarks, and it’s totally worth the way that Will wiggles far enough away to pinch at his side in retribution, if only for the way that Will’s smile goes sharp and sweet as he attacks. 

(He’s the prettiest tickle monster that Derek’s ever seen.)

“Shut up, Nurse. I was just thinking about how easy it was for Chowder, y’know? He just… _saw_ Farmer and it was pretty much true love from that point on. It was so easy for them, and I’m glad that they have each other… but nothing about _us_ has been easy.”

There’s a tension in Will’s body that Derek would be able to feel from across a room, let alone from where he’s splayed beside him, and that alone has Derek’s brain whirling to catch up - to get ahead of whatever is worrying his boyfriend so that they can fix it together.

Because this doesn’t feel like the absent, sleepy conversation of the recently sated.

It very suddenly feels like a question that Derek very obviously needs to answer.

“You know, I never really put much stock in love at first sight. Like, it happens - I’m sure that it happens, because you hear about it all the time - but it’s not something that I ever hoped for.”

“I should have known,” Will huffs, his breath warm against Derek’s shoulder as he wriggles closer again, like a cat seeking warmth from the sun, “your poet’s heart runs on drama and lattes.”

He’s not exactly _wrong_ about that, but it still warrants a slap on the ass all the same.

(It’s not like they don’t both enjoy it.)

“Is it so bad that I want to work for my love?” Will doesn’t say anything to that, but he does snuggle close enough to rest his chin on Derek’s chest. 

He looks good there. 

“Easy love is all well and good, but if you don’t put work into it… if you don’t have skin in the game… wouldn’t that make it just as easy to lose?”

“That’s pretty smooth, Nurse,” Will says before pressing a kiss to Derek’s chin.

“Doesn’t make it less true. Just because I didn’t love you at first chirp doesn’t mean I don’t love you now - it doesn’t make my love for you any less real.”

And, look. Maybe they haven’t said it before. But Derek’s been carrying love for Will for a while, now. He’s been keeping it safe and letting it grow in the shelter of his heart. It’s a secret that he’s always intended to share, he’s just… been saving it - saving himself, just in case Will wasn’t there yet. Because, while Derek can be patient, it’s always been hard for him to hold things back once they’ve been let loose.

Now, though?

It’s time.

Will presses a kiss to Derek’s cheek before he can spend too much time internally questioning if he was Too Much™ - another kiss lands on the corner of Derek’s mouth (the barest overlap of lip upon lip), and it feels like an answer.

It feels like _love_.

Easy as anything, Derek tilts into a kiss of his own, soft and sweet and sure as hell, and there’s no urgency to the moment, just the luxury of knowing that they _earned_ this. That, despite their difficulties in the beginning, they’ve earned this easy kind of affection.

And yeah, love at first sight’s got nothing on this.


	3. a confession/declaration + love letters

It’s not often that Will gets asked for relationship advice. 

Mostly because it… well, okay, it really doesn’t happen at all.

And _really_ , it makes sense. Because out of all the other options, Will is not high up on the ‘super approachable and super in touch with their feelings’ list. Not when you’ve got Chowder and Nursey living in the haus, all in touch with their feelings and easy enough to get along with. Certainly not with Bitty, or Jack, or Ransom and Holster merely a Skype call away. 

It’s not something that Will’s ever let himself get upset about - being the only unapproachable person on a team of personalities… well, it’s not exactly the most exciting role to play, but everyone needs their niche. 

So, yeah. When Ford finds him in the middle of a job and offers a free set of hands, he doesn’t see her offer for what it really is.

(It’s a trap.)

“How did you let Nursey know that you were DTD?”

He doesn’t manage to bean himself on one of the lower-hanging pipes in the crawlspace (and god, this insulation job is dragging on _for-fucking-ever_ ), but that doesn’t mean it’s not a near thing. Because, what?

“I know I’m going to regret asking this, but what the fuck is ‘DTD’?” He doesn’t use finger quotes (because that would require actually crawling out of the crawlspace), but he likes to think that his tone more than makes up for it.

It’s only fair, then, that he can one-hundred percent hear the eyeroll in Ford’s voice in return. “Oh my god, this is why I asked Nursey first. You’re like a ninety year old man trapped in a frat boy’s body.”

Gently, but with feeling, Dex scoots back just far enough to flip her off (because there is no amount of tone that can convey his casual offense) before getting back to work. For her part, Ford merely snorts back a laugh.

“If you’re just gonna chirp me, you can just leave. Nursey should be back from class soon enough, so you can just ask _him_ , since he was obviously first on your list.”

“Yeah,” Ford drawls, doing her best to make the syllable last as long as possible. Which. She’s obviously been spending too much time with Nursey. “ _About_ that… I did ask him, and he told me to talk to you.”

“I-” Will doesn’t mean to stutter, but his brain can barely process the fact that Nursey would suggest talking to _him_ that it’s understandable. “Ford, I don’t even know what ‘DTD’ _means_.”

“It means ‘down to date’, Dex, and if you were slightly less than ninety years old you would probably know that.” She chirps, and really. This is what Will gets for picking Samwell. A lifetime supply of chirps and pie, which. In a few more months he’ll have to make his own damn pie, so it’s not like he ends up that far ahead. “Look. I just… I need help letting Tango and Whiskey know that I want to date them. _Together_. Like, I’ve known that I wanted that for awhile, but-” 

Will waits a beat, giving her the chance to fill the silence, but it doesn’t take long to realize that it’s not gonna happen. Because he’s been there. Staring out into the void of possibility, hoping that something happens.

“It’s, uh… it was _hard,_ for me. With Nurse, I mean. I spent a long time wanting him, but I spent a longer time thinking that I wasn’t allowed to. It doesn’t really sound like that’s your problem, though, right?” Ford laughs at that, a tiny hiccup of a thing, and even though Will knows he’s not the best person for this conversation, he can’t help but be grateful that she trusts him enough to ask. It makes him want to help. “I ended up writing him a letter. It wasn’t supposed to ever _go_ to him, it wasn’t supposed to be more than a safe space to get it out of my system… except that one letter turned to two, two turned to five, and in the end I had a whole shoebox of love letters and he was _still_ under my skin.

“Then the dibs flip happened, and you know how _that_ went.” It takes a bit of effort to put down the foam pipe that he had been finagling with in order to back out of the crawlspace, but it’s important - it _feels_ important, anyways - that he look her in the eye for this, because Ford’s never done anything to deserve less than Will’s best. “I fucked up, and when I went to apologize, the only thing Nursey asked me was _why…_ and at that point, I kind of owed it to him. You have to know, I was _never_ going to give him those letters, but our friendship was more important to me than my feelings, and it was _way_ more important than my pride… and after the way I acted, it was the least I could do. 

“To explain, you know?”

“So... you think I should write them love letters?” And, okay. It’s probably fair that Ford sounds so confused, because Will was supposed to be giving advice, and instead he just fucked off and told her about his fucked up courtship instead. But whatever, there’s a reason no one turns to him for this shit.

“Honestly, I think you should just tell them in whatever way you can. If that’s a letter, or a monologue, or some kind of interpretive dance… the main thing is that you do it. You shouldn’t get to the point I did, where your only option is to be brave. I made everything so much harder for myself than it had to be, and I almost fucked up _everything_ with Nursey over it.”

“Yeah, except for how you didn’t,” Ford says, and the way her voice has gone all heartfelt and sincere has him blushing in second-hand embarrassment, because who even does that? “It may not have been your plan from the beginning, but you did everything you could to avoid losing him. You owned your fuckup, and you owned your feelings, and maybe the fact that Nursey told me to talk to you about this makes sense after all.”

“How do you figure that?”

“You like to pretend that you’re jaded and practical, but you’re actually a marshmallow, Poindexter. An overly romantic, ridiculous marshmallow.”

And, yeah. As much as Will wants to disagree, she kinda has a point. “Yeah, yeah. That still doesn’t help _you_ , which was the whole point of this conversation, right?”

“No worries, my friend,” she says, hitting him hard with a double set of finger guns and a toothy grin as she flounces towards the foot of the basement stairs, “I know _exactly_ what I’m going to do.”

And, as suddenly as she appeared, Ford is gone - all without having received even a smidgen of useful advice.

Graduation, Will thinks as he turns back towards the crawlspace, cannot come soon enough.


	4. all dressed up

Derek’s seen him all dressed up before. 

Hell, he’s seen him all _un_ dressed before, which is a significant upgrade to the whole clothes thing.

The point is, Derek has _seen_ him. He knows every notch of Will’s spine and every rough patch on his hands, and he knows exactly how well Will’s shoulders fill out his shirts. He knows so much about Will’s body - it’s strength, it’s heft, and the way that the tension melts out once his pajamas (well worn, soft as anything, and just the slightest bit sheer) come on. He knows the colors that flatter Will best, and the clothes that suit his frame, and really, it’s kind of gross how invested Derek is in everything _Will…_ but that’s kind of their thing. 

That’s _love_.

So, yeah. The fact that Derek is so completely, ridiculously, _insanely_ out of his element seeing Will stand before him in his suit? 

(Blue silk cut close to his frame, and just the right shade to make his eyes glow.)

( And he’s ethereal in the moment - the kind of creature written about in myth.)

(And somehow - _somehow_ \- he’s picked Derek.)

_Wow_.

Like. Will has always been adamant that he was a seven to Derek’s ten (which, what the fuck ever, the boy is _blind_ ), but present day Derek wants to shove this in past Will’s face, because _damn_. He has never seen a more beautiful man in his life. He will _never_ see a more beautiful man in his life - of that, Derek is certain.

Because there is no one else for Derek. There can’t be, not with the way that Will so completely holds Derek’s heart in his hands. There’s literally no other choice, which… 

Yeah. 

That’s kind of why they’re here to begin with.

It’s Chowder’s muffled cough that brings Derek out of his objectively gross mooning, which, from the way that Will’s looking at him right now, is probably for the best. But, like… the realities of modern love aside, Derek only wants to marry the love of his life once. 

The crooked smile that Will shoots him says a thousand words - words of devotion, words of forever, words for tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that - a thousand words, and all of them love. 

Derek has never felt more alive.


	5. naughty whispers

 

“Holy  _ shit _ , you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” 

At this point, Derek’s  _ used  _ to getting crap from Dex over his ‘lack of organization’ or what-the-fuck-ever, but that doesn’t make it easier to deal with. And,  _ yeah _ , maybe the room could be neater, but in the grand scheme of things it’s really the last thing Dex should be crawling up his ass over. 

And, like, he’s just about to say so when Derek actually looks over, and it’s only then that he realizes that whatever’s going on with Dex… has nothing to do with him.

“We need to leave right now,” Dex says, more of a whisper than anything else, but he looks… he looks a little ill.

“Dex… what the fuck?”

To his credit, Dex doesn’t flip him off or roll his eyes, but he  _ does _ take another step into the room before wincing. The color drains from Dex’s face, and it’s kind of eerie. 

“We. Need. To. Leave. Right. Now.  _ Please. _ ”

It’s the please that has Derek pushing back from his desk and slipping on his shoes, but the thing that really has him moving is the low and lingering moan that picks up - just loud enough to be audible through the shared bathroom. 

Because, yeah. Chowder and Farms are going for it, and it’s just… it’s getting louder. 

“What the fuck,” he hisses, grabbing Dex’s elbow to help rush him through the doorway and down the stairs. “I thought their Date Day was tomorrow. I would never- I-”

“I know. I  _ know _ .” Even though he’s still whispering, Derek can  _ feel _ the urgency in Dex’s voice. And, like. 

“How did we let this happen?”

“We didn’t,” Dex says, with the voice of a man who is resigned to his fate. “They went off script. This isn’t our fault, Nurse. We didn’t  _ know _ .”

By the time they’ve reached the front door the moans have crescendoed into wails, and the thing is, Derek is proud of his boy. He is  _ thrilled _ that Chowder knows how to treat his lady both in and out of the bedroom. But there are lines. Lines that cannot be crossed. Contingency plans that  _ should not fail _ . And mostly, he and Dex should not be  _ anywhere _ near the haus when their best friends bone.

And  _ seriously _ , for all the talk of unplanned pregnancy and STIs - all the talk of sex education failing today’s youth, Derek will never get over his bitterness at the  _ true _ danger - the true  _ catastrophe _ \- loud, straight, vanilla sex.

“Come on, Nursey,” and Dex’s voice is gentle, though they stopped whispering once they crossed the street. He offers his hand, and Derek finds himself taking it, like it’s the most natural thing. 

Behind them a cat starts wailing, just out of key from the noise pollution coming from the haus. “Let’s head over to Annie’s - my treat.”

From where it’s parked in front of the LAX house, a beat up Honda’s car alarm starts blaring.

Half a block down, dogs start barking, and yeah.

There’s no way that Derek’s turning that down, because as good as the idea of coffee is - as nice as Dex’s hand feels clasped against his - it’s nothing compared to the promise of the relative quiet of Downtown Samwell on a Thursday night. 

Together they head down the street, leaving their friends to their extracurricular activities.

It’s going to be awhile, and it’s only a matter of time before the street stars shaking.

Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is nothing that the prompt asked for, but it's all I could come up with... so, this is a semi-formal apology. Sorry, darlings. XD


End file.
